


Space

by coffeeblack75



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: 25 Days of Voyager, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Fix-It: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), F/M, My First Fanfic, can't believe I'm posting this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblack75/pseuds/coffeeblack75
Summary: In those last few years out there, their friendship had been strained to nearly breaking point on occasion. ... In her darkest times, she had let herself feel the responsibility for it completely, knowing that it all came back to the sacrifice she had insisted upon on behalf of them both back on New Earth. The weight of it had been her only constant in the Delta Quadrant, the only levity to it the hope that once they were home ...
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Seven of Nine (mentioned)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 52
Collections: 25 Days of Voyager (2020 Version)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackVelvet42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/gifts).



> 365 days ago, I posted my first fic to AO3 – for last year’s 25 Days of Voyager. Except, that fic wasn’t the first I ever wrote … this one was. So I had the idea of posting this story not only as my entry to this year’s 25 Days of Voyager (thank you so much for running this fest, [ariella884](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariella884/pseuds/ariella884)!) but also to mark and reflect on my first year in the _Voy_ fandom and as a writer – and as a strange sort of thank you to all those kind and generous people who’ve welcomed me here, and supported and held my hand along the way with my _Voy_ and writerly angst. :D
> 
> So disclaimer: This was written mid December 2019, when I was up to about S3. I’d been spoiled for ‘Endgame’ and as newly minted J/Cer all I wanted to do was fix it, of course. This was the first bit of creative writing I’d done for at least 20 years, and remains a WIP, full of all that being a WIP entails (including lines etc. that made it into later fics, and bits of cheesiness), but it stands now as kind of snapshot of my first heady days in the _Voy_ fandom so Imma celebrate that and leave it be. Some redrafting was done around April but it’s never seen a beta. (Okay, I will admit to making a very few changes before posting it today, but I’ve resisted making many!)
> 
> Chapter 1 is the ‘complete’ T-rated story; Chapter 2 is a drafty, incomplete alternate M-/E-rated ending – my first attempt at writing smut …
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone – here’s your ugly Christmas sweater of a fic from Aunty Coffee. :P

Janeway looked out at the great blue sphere that appeared to hang just beneath the ship, absently fingering the four pips at her throat. _Voyager_ was quiet, most of the crew having packed up and shipped out already, bound for new assignments, lives, leave at the very least. She ran a hand across the bulkhead, let her body still and feel for the soft pulse of the warp core and was comforted by its vibration when it found her. She would miss it planet side, wondered how she would sleep without its constant presence. She frowned and reached for the coffee cup perched on her desk before remembering it was empty.

The weeks since they had returned had been a flurry of debriefings, hearings, dinners, politics, for which she had been mostly thankful – it had meant not much time to think, and not much time to reconnect with her family and friends from before.

The door chimed on her way to the replicator.

“Come.”

It was B’Elanna. “Captain.”

“B’Elanna. All ready?” Janeway said, turning from the replicator with a fresh cup of coffee. She put it down on her desk and went and stood in front of B’Elanna, grasping the chief’s upper arms for a moment.

“Yes, we’re all set to leave at fourteen-hundred, Captain. I just wanted to say goodbye. And thank you.”

Janeway flashed her a sincere, warm smile. “I’ll miss you. But I’ll see you soon enough! Have you and Tom decided where you’ll base yourselves?”

“No, not yet. We’ll discuss it once we’re back from leave.”

“Wonderful. When you settle, let me know.”

“Captain, I ...”

“What is it?”

B’Elanna took in her former commanding officer’s drawn face and tired eyes that were ill-concealed behind her smile. “Nothing. Just ... congratulations again on your promotion. And thank you for everything.”

“Nonsense. Thank you, B’Elanna. It has been an honour – more than that, and you know it – serving with you – and Tom. I’m so sorry I won’t get to see him – or Miral – again before you’re back from leave now.”

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll pass that on. Tom was sorry he couldn’t come today.” She stood for a beat, as if unsure about something.

“Well then. Dismissed,” Janeway said with formality, a corner of her mouth curling up.

B’Elanna nodded and smiled then turned to leave, but on reaching the door, she turned back. Janeway already had her head down working on a PADD, her shoulders set.

“Captain?”

Janeway looked up.

“Yes?”

“I ... about Seven. And ...”

“Yes, B’Elanna. What is it?”

“I ... I just wanted to say ... I’m sorry about all that.”

Janeway felt a rush of colour to her cheeks. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I just hope you’ll be happy, Captain.” She paused. “We all do.”

Janeway let out a breath. “Thank you, B’Elanna.” 

Her former engineer nodded, the door swished and she was gone.

 _Happiness?_ Janeway wondered at the idea for a moment and didn’t like the shape it made in her mind.

*

  
Back in her quarters that night, the uneasy feeling that B’Elanna had instilled in her returned. The quietness of _Voyager_ seemed to press in on her. Thoughts that she’d rather not have jostled at the edges of her awareness. With a frustrated snort, she abruptly plunked the book that she’d been trying to read for the last hour on the table and got up, deciding to distract herself with some packing.

There wasn’t really much left to do. Most of her belongings were already on Earth with her younger sister Phoebe, but a few personal effects remained, and some articles of clothing that still held some significance. The task would not be nearly distracting enough. _Or perhaps too distracting_ she reflected as she glanced sidelong at what remained to sort through.

She would go for a walk. 

As she stepped through the doors, she collided with someone standing there, her head hitting the front of a red and black duty uniform and the body therein rather hard. A hand reached out and took her arm to steady her as she regained her balance.

She looked up. “Comm— _Captain_ ,” Janeway corrected herself. “What are you doing ...? Why wasn’t I informed you were on board?”

Her former first officer realised he was still holding her arm and let it go, stepping back.  
  
“Admiral — internal comms is down for the refit.”

She grimaced. “It’s still ‘captain’ for the moment, Comman— Captain — why did no one tell me?” For days she had felt her grip on _Voyager_ , its ebb and flow once almost as much a part of her as her own biorhythms, falling away as Starfleet moved the ship’s commission on without her. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling and she wasn’t enjoying the inertia.

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re here late. Were you coming to see me?”

He shook his head slightly, but seemed unsure of the answer. “There were some manifests I wanted to go over before next week.”

“I’m going for a walk. Join me?”

He nodded and fell into practised step beside her. They walked the near-deserted corridors in silence for a while.

“What about those manifests?”

“They’ll keep.”

“Something is obviously on your mind, Captain; what is it?”

“Space.”

“Space?”

“Too much ... Not enough.” There was a wash of irritation and distractedness in his voice — and sadness, she felt.

She stopped walking and put out a hand to stop him too.

“What is it, Chakotay?”

He cleared his throat, put his hands behind his back in that familiar pose. He looked unsure how to begin, if he could begin, and then simply didn’t. It was unlike him to be quite so on edge, so silent. But maybe she wasn’t qualified any longer to make that kind of assumption.

In those last few years out there, their friendship had been strained to nearly breaking point on occasion. If not quite ever snapping completely, it had sometimes become so taut that they would circle each other like ... she searched for a suitable word but couldn’t find one. In her darkest times, she had let herself feel the responsibility for it completely, knowing that it all came back to the sacrifice she had insisted upon on behalf of them both back on New Earth. The weight of it had been her only constant in the Delta Quadrant, the only levity to it the hope that once they were home ... _once they were home ..._

They had arrived home and things had been ...

Things change. People move on.

She mentally shook herself; she didn’t want to think about this again, none of it was helpful. She missed her friend, and he was here now, and she wanted to be there for him if she could. Why not try to build that bridge back?

“Well, it’s good to see you.”

He turned to glance at her and met her looking back at him, holding the gaze for just that older, more familiar, beat too long.

Abruptly she looked away, feeling a rise of emotion she wasn’t sure she could name. Irritation she decided, determined to label it. She turned and started walking again.

That’s twice today now, she thought, thinking as well of her strange conversation with B’Elanna, although she wished suddenly that she hadn’t decided to connect the two.

If he wanted to, he would tell her what was bothering him. She really didn’t need another’s frustrations on top of her own. And certainly not whatever he might be about to bring to her — her mind was already considering the less pleasant possibilities. 

“You too,” he said. “It’s hard to get used to. This being back.”

With some difficulty, she pressed her belligerent hackles down. “Yes.”

“Being still.” 

_Earth instead of emptiness; solidity instead of vast expanse. Offices, meetings and blue skies above ... instead of stars and warp trails, blithely sailing ever onwards, never stopping, never having to face where you are or who you are or what you are ..._

“Yes. I’ll miss the stars,” she admitted, deliberately choosing to address only the more literal sense of his words. “But you will be back up here shortly.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No. There’s a lot I want to do from here. That I can only do here.” She was being honest; she was looking forward to the work, if not those other, more psychological aspects of being immobile. “You?”

“Yes.”

She stopped at that and turned to face him again.

“But not about the captaincy ...” The thought came out aloud before she had time to check it. _What was she doing? She had no right ..._ She swallowed.

“No.” His dark eyes widened just slightly.

“Let’s go and get some coffee,” she decided.

_Well, he was here, wasn’t he?_

*

The mess hall was deserted. It was a curious place now, she reflected, without Neelix, without his cooking paraphernalia. She had almost forgotten that it had originally been the captain’s private dining room, but now it didn’t look like anything at all.

“No leola root on the menu tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, pleased to hear that,” Chakotay said, chuckling softly.

“What will you use it for now?” she asked him, indicating the space.

“I hadn’t thought about it.” She noticed the distractedness again. She touched his shoulder in passing as she went to source the coffee.

He sat at the nearest table. When she returned with carafe and cups and proceeded to pour, he told her what it was that had brought him back into the sky that night, and she listened silently, aware that somewhere deep, deep down inside, her core was bellowing something at her that she just wasn’t ready to hear, even now.

He and Seven were not going well, he told her. He was light on the details, simply saying that he felt like he was holding her back. They wanted to make it work ... he wanted to make it work, but the literal honeymoon was wearing off.

When he finished he looked bleak. 

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached across the table and took his hand.

“I’m sorry.” And she meant it, because it hurt to see him so unhappy. She wished she could take it away from him.

It had been a long time since they had touched this way. He squeezed her hand back. They held each other’s palm a little longer before she retracted her hand with a breath and they both stood.

She made to collect their cups, but he put a hand on her arm.

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

She met his gaze.

A soft sound escaped her when she recognised what she saw there. Her heart pounded once, thudding in her chest. It was pain she saw. And with a start she realised just how well she knew his look, and how it had almost always been there since ... _New Earth_.

She struggled to push down what suddenly surged inside her, threatening to break over the walls she had assembled so carefully, so painstakingly, around everything to do with him.

Breaking free of his grasp, she took a step back. Grabbed at the cups and carafe, which clicked and clattered noisily.

“I’m sorry I haven’t moved out of your quarters yet,” she called over her shoulder, her voice clipped and unnatural as she made to take the dishes to the recycler. “I wasn’t expecting you here for another few days.”

“It’s fine, of course.”

They headed back to their quarters in silence. She could sense he was formulating something to say. They arrived at his door first.

“Goodnight, Comm-- Captain.”

“Thank you for tonight.”

“Goodnight,” she said firmly, before he could interject, and headed up the corridor.

  
* 

Of course, she could not then sleep. Boy did she need space and was glad she was up here, not on the planet. His words ... and all that he hadn’t said ... turned in her mind, churned her up. _He_ had made a terrible mistake? No ... not him. Agitated, she got up and made more coffee, sat and sipped it looking down at the world, that beautiful, terrifying blue world she had been pursuing for so many years. Tried to think of anything except that look in his eyes.

Earth spun below although she could not see it spinning; as with all stillness, the Earth’s was also illusory. It seemed in the wrong place somehow, appearing to float lightly when really it felt like it was bearing down on her, crushing her with its mass. Why was it suffocating her? Wasn’t it enough that she had shouldered it for the last seven years?

She wondered now if she could start thinking about those questions, if she could let herself face them, and what the consequences of that would be. She’d have to address the issue at some point if not now. But it couldn’t be now, not with him here. She grasped rather desperately at this shred of an exit her mind had eventually worked its way around to and abruptly yawned. Unsatisfactory truce with her thoughts negotiated, she sought her bed and slept.

  
* 

He was gone again by the time that she was up the next day, and if she was surprised she didn’t let herself feel it, didn’t let herself think about what his visit had meant. In her last days aboard, she mechanically focused on the tasks at hand, and almost quicker than she thought possible, it was over, and she found herself one day, the last day, standing on the bridge alone for the final time. An impulse made her sit in the chair for a moment. She felt the emptiness of its companion to her left acutely. She stood up and was surprised as two crew appeared and bent to work at the bolts holding it in place almost before she was upright again. Her mouth dropped open a little. 

“Sorry, ma’am. We’re on a schedule,” one of them said. 

“Captain,” she corrected, automatically.

  
* 

It was some time before Kathryn allowed herself to think of him again. Her work kept her busy and she found that she enjoyed it as much as she thought would. She stayed with Phoebe to begin with, then found an apartment overlooking Golden Gate and headquarters, finding in the view and movement and expansiveness of water something of the feeling of that momentum of space.

He hadn’t come to see her again after that night all those weeks ago, and she hadn’t let herself wonder why. She hadn’t asked others after him either. If occasionally the name of her old ship passed her by she could pretend she did not hear it; it was not in her fleet.

But now, today, at home on a Sunday, she was reluctantly unpacking the last of her life on _Voyager_. And she was crying.

Phoebe had brought around the last two boxes of her things earlier in the day.

“They’re taking up space, Kat,” she’d said, thrusting the boxes at her. “You keep saying you’ll pick them up and then you don’t.”

“I haven’t had time,” she’d replied, brushing her younger sister’s comment away.

These two boxes she’d left on purpose, of course. Sitting on the floor, she opened the first one. A bright replicated lei tumbled free once the pressure of the lid was released, landing on her lap. All of a sudden she couldn’t breathe. She remembered receiving it – when she and Chakotay had “got lei’d” at that holodeck party, oh so long ago. She remembered them overhearing Tom Paris refer to it that way when he thought they were out of earshot. Oh how she and Chakotay had laughed about it. When there was all the time in the quadrant. _And parameters had kept everything under control._

She didn’t even notice the tears when they began and by the time she did it was too late, she could not hold back any longer. Racked with ugly sobs so strong she had to lie down, her body finally betraying her mind once and for all.

She had given up everything to get them all home. Everything. Including, she knew now, herself. She hadn’t returned; she was still lost out there, somewhere in the dark.

* 

When Chakotay stepped into her office at Starfleet that late afternoon some weeks later, Kathryn had been expecting him and arranged her face precisely, stood up just so, brought a practised, formal smile to her lips. When he returned this with his much more easy, natural one, she found herself reaching out to brush a hand against his chest for a second, that old familiarity taking hold, before she stopped herself and retreated behind her desk while he remained standing.

“Admiral.”

“Captain.”

“Thank you for seeing me today.”

“Of course.”

“I wanted to thank you in person for interceding on Lieutenant Rose’s behalf.”

“Ah, well I trust you; your report. He was clearly in the wrong and has acknowledged that. I see no reason to reprimand him any further than you already have. I just thought my voice, if it had any weight, would help his case.”

“It made all the difference.”

“Yes, well.” She stood up. “I’m pleased to help.”

“Are you busy now? Take a walk with me?”

“Always busy,” she smiled, “but always time for a walk. Provided this walk will also include coffee?”

He returned her smile softly, nodded.

Outside, they strolled down the path towards the water for a while in silence.

“How is _Voyager_?”

“She is like the wind.”

She smiled at his turn of phrase.

“And how is her captain?”

“Also perhaps like the wind.”

“Ah. I see.” Although she didn’t think she did, but she wanted to. 

They stopped under a tree, taking respite from the sun that was too bright and hot. But the branch they sheltered under only partly shielded them. Bright spots of light dappled their skin, obscuring then clarifying their features as the breeze moved the leaves. She tried to see his eyes, unsure whether she would still find there what she admitted she was now seeking. She was pleased to see that he looked happier than when they had last met, far more at ease.

“And how is her captain?” he asked her.

She smiled, taking his question for the gift of respect and loyalty that it was.

“I guess ... she wants to be like the wind too,” she said, taking a small chance, feeling the strangeness of his language in her mouth and at the same time noticing how comforting and perfectly correct the words were. She reached out and took his hand silently, linking her fingers through his. There was no ring there any longer. She let her thumb move along the side of his, up and down. The gesture was unmistakable. She took a deep breath, looked in his eyes and presented her silent question.

Despite the fact he looked better, she saw that same pain still there. But there was now something else mounting in his eyes as they stood, gazing at each other as they had done so many times before.

He looked at her with a query of his own on his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he said.

“Eat? I have a meeting ...”

*

  
They caught up over biryani later that evening after her meeting. The meal wasn’t as good as her grandmother’s, she assured him, but closer perhaps to the real deal than _Voyager_ ’s replicator version had been. Kathryn was surprised at the ease between them. Something had lifted. Chakotay told her about Seven, how he had let himself go there because of how lonely he had been. How guilty he felt about all of it. And she found her courage and told him about finding the lei, and what that had revealed to her.

“I ...” she finished, haltingly. “I am sorry, Chakotay. So sorry for all the pain I have caused.”

“It went both ways.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“You did only what you had to do. You got us home, Kathryn.” Her name on his lips for the first time in what seemed like an age. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed the sound of his voice saying her name, oh so much. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“Be angry at me. You have that right.”

“I can’t be mad at you.”

She shook her head, exasperated.

“What do you need me to be?”

“Need you to be?” Her heart broke. “You ...? I thought you had long since given up on ... me.” Her voice broke slightly. _On us._

He glanced to the side, before looking back at her. “I tried to. You must know that. I wasn’t very successful.” 

She realised how much of an understatement this was, how much he must have endured. She let a thought free, dared to let it bubble up inside of her: _My warrior_ , she thought, hardly knowing how to test it for truth.

“I’m yours. I always have been,” he said quietly, replying to her thought, watching as her face lifted and her expression opened before him, her lips parting in a perfect O of wonder.

*

  
After she’d let them in, Kathryn found the apartment had shrunk now that Chakotay stood at the centre of it. She found she couldn’t be still, instead flashing around the place, circling, putting things away, coats up, stacking books. Through all the fury he waited. Finally there was nothing left to do, and she stopped in front of him, arms folded in front of her, awkward and uncomfortable, so unlike the captain he knew so well.

Very quietly, Chakotay stepped forward and enfolded her into himself and just stood there, waiting. She stiffened, letting out a breath in surprise. But then let her head drop to fit under his chin and listened to his body surround her. By increments he felt her soften, noted how hard it was for her to do so, even now, how hard it was for her just to be, recognising that some internal battle was still being waged in her. He wasn’t sure which side was going to win.

Eventually her crossed arms seemed absurd and she pushed at him a little to let her free them. He didn’t realise what her intent was, and there was a moment when she was not sure either. He broke the embrace, held her away from him slightly.

“Chako—,” she started, deliberately threatening the moment, old routine barriers appearing from nowhere and setting themselves up. She dropped her eyes from his and found herself pulling away from him, but a hand at her waist prevented her.

“Kathryn ...”

She shut her eyes.

“Chakotay.” Her voice wavered a little too much for her liking. She tried again. “Chakotay ...” This time decidedly more admiral-like, and pushed a hand at his chest, finally looking at him again.

“No,” he said, his voice firm, unyielding. “No, we’re absolutely not going to leave it there.”

She started to protest, but his other hand came to push the hair that had escaped from her clip back from her face and she stilled at his touch.

“No, listen to me.” He paused, wondering what he could do, what he could say to best help her. “You were alone out there. I told you I was there and I tried to support you but I know you were alone. I won’t ever understand fully what that was like. We all did what we could to help you. I hope you felt that.”

She nodded, and he saw tears welling in her eyes. “Yes, of course. I couldn’t have done it without any of you; I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“But you need to realise something. You have to let go now. You are not responsible for anyone or anything else any more, only yourself. If you can understand that, you can be happy.”

Her every instinct sought to break away from him, anything but stand there and face this. But she didn’t.

At some point he had taken her hands in his again.

“I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I know how.”

He wished he could make her see her strength and her greatness, her immense courage and humanity.

“You can learn.”

He paused for a moment. Slowly, deliberately rubbed her thumb, up and down.

“And we have gazed at each other for nearly eight years ...” he began, his voice deep and rich with something else now. “That’s enough gazing.” This last like a low growl.

She shivered at the sound.  
  
“Enough,” he repeated, this time more softly, more of a question.

A sound escaped her, seeing a hint of that pain again in his eyes as he too wondered whether he could be free.

She swallowed. Made the decision.

It really was enough.

“Yes.” Chakotay watched her face change as she took ownership of her choice. Then more firmly, “Yes.”

 _There she is_ , he thought, _my Captain_.

  
*

Both shook now slightly at the new form of space that was being born between them, a tiny, exquisite expanse.

She was first to broach it, the fingers of a hand reaching up to trace the outline of his tattoo ... _for how long had she wanted to do that?_ He shuddered at the sensation, finding this simple, lightest touch of his mark loaded with such intimacy that he almost could not bear it. He grabbed her wrist, gently taking her hand away and dipped his head to bring his mouth to the heel of her palm and the soft blue veins just beyond, letting his other hand slide down her side and come to rest at her waist, fitted against the top of her hip firmly as if to stop her from dematerialising. She shivered at his lips against her skin, their warmth, moist and wanting, and he whispered something inaudible there. He lifted his gaze to hers. Dark and full. His love and need there _alive_ ... as alive as she knew they were in her.

“Chakotay,” she said, her voice husky.

She had spoken his name a thousand times before out in the Delta Quadrant. And no matter how she had uttered it, for what purpose and with what inflection – an order, to convey anger, frustration or indifference – it had always betrayed her: always he had heard her love for him there. She had made him strong and allowed him to survive.

This time he let the sound of his name on her lips loose something in him that he had held back for so long. He let go of her hand, grasped her hips and suddenly stilled, holding her there while he looked at her. She wondered what he was doing but then she saw the pure joy start to radiate from every aspect of him and ripple up his body to erupt in a smile. _Oh god, that smile._ Finally, finally, so much happiness in it. She found she could be still there with him.

She realised she was smiling, stupidly, inanely.

A sound from his throat and then somehow they could no longer bear it, and there was no longer any space between them at all and time that had been brought to a standstill a moment before was now hurtling in a new way and there was just breath and skin, rough fibres of clothing, and lips, teeth crashing, bites and slick, messy tongues ... _god, oh yes_ ... and it was ... it was ... exactly what they had imagined it could be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in my notes to the first part, this is an unfinished, unbetaed, draft alternate ending to _Space_ , and my first ever attempt at smut writing.

There was no way back from here; but also, though – with a last vestige of that feeling of sheer panic that had always surged up in her when thinking about him in the past swirling about her – she realised, finally for certain, that she did not want there to be. This was one reason why she had held back, why she had pushed him away all these years: knowledge of what they had become already to each other, as well as what they _would_ become. To take that step, acknowledge this ... it was baring everything she was to him. And then ... it required _a level of recklessness ... she wouldn’t, couldn’t trust herself to ..._ even now she wasn’t sure she could comprehend it and experienced just a twinge of fear.

Yet she found her hand on his inner thigh, sliding upwards; felt one of his hands coursing up under her shirt and stroking her breast, his breath and lips now at her neck, his other hand pressing her pelvis into him at the small of her back. _No space now._ With a desperation that surprised her, she wriggled an arm free and struggled awkwardly to reach for his belt, opening up the space between them and brushing his cock through the fabric of his pants as she did so. She felt him shudder against her hand. Rather more forcefully than she thought she had intended, she pulled at his belt buckle, trying to undo it but succeeding only in bringing his hips crashing into hers, and he came forward in surprise, tipping her precariously back. A laugh escaped his lips as he grabbed at her to rebalance, and she discovered herself laughing too as they toppled over and hit the carpeted floor of her apartment with a thud, landing separately, she on her back, he on his front, half over her, one of her hands somehow flattened uncomfortably beneath him. She huffed.

“Are you all right?” he managed between amused pants, pulling at her and rolling them both over so they lay facing each other on their sides.

“Yes.” But she let the moment, everything, be threatened, unbidden old routine barriers abruptly appearing from nowhere and setting themselves up. She dropped her eyes from his and found herself attempting to pull away, to get up, but a hand at her waist prevented her. _What was she doing?_

“Kathryn ...”

She shut her eyes.

“Chakotay.” Her voice wavered a little too much for her liking. She tried again. “Chakotay ...” This time decidedly more admiral-like, and pushed a hand at his chest, finally looking at him again. _What did she want? What was she doing?_

“No. No, we’re absolutely not going to leave it there,” he said. It was an order, she realised with a start.

She started to protest, but the hand at her waist came to push the hair that had escaped from her bun back from her face and she froze. He had rested his head on his other hand, taking her chin and tipping it so they looked into each other again.

“We have gazed at each other for _nearly eight years. Enough gazing_ ,” this last nearly a growl.

“Ah ...” She just had to let go.

He rolled her on her back, he above, balancing himself on his arms.

“OK?”

_What would it mean to unfold to him? What would it mean if she didn’t?_

“Enough,” he repeated, this time more softly, more of a question, his eyes sensing danger for the first time since they had come together, that she might be serious, even after everything that had passed between them on this day.

A sound escaped her at seeing this hint of his pain again in his eyes. She swallowed. It was enough. Hoarsely, “Yes.”

She reached up and pulled him down to her, experiencing the novel sensation of all his weight on her for just a second as the shape of him conformed so exactly to her own that the newness became moot. She kissed him now, their mouths coming together quieter than before, but then the burning between them grew and they both wanted, wanted. He shifted a little to the side, separating them, so he could wriggle into somewhat of a sitting position, one hand supporting her to also come upright as she took her shirt off and then shifted to help him with his tunic, his turtleneck and then shirt, stealing fumbling little tastes and touches between the undressings, her tongue at his collarbone first, his at that place at the base of her throat, next her fingers grazing the inside of his elbow, his lips coaxing a moan from her at her earlobe.

She allowed herself to pay attention to him properly, to this process, as they revealed themselves to each other, this all so particularly strange as for so long she had made it a job to take no notice. No notice of the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, how soft the skin there looked, how his tattoo flowed into his hair ... no notice of the dimple in the centre of his chin or the curve of his lower lip, how full it was ... She had pushed those thoughts away as soon as they had arrived, and now, letting her eyes and body and mind open to him, rove him, as he appeared to her, bouncing back and forth between shyness and confidence, she almost couldn’t take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, congratulations, lol. Thank you so much for reading!


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